


Dark Room, Darker Sheets

by Samanthadavis1066



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Infidelity, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5691823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samanthadavis1066/pseuds/Samanthadavis1066
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen keep their relationship under wraps by following rules...and the safety of this dark room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Room, Darker Sheets

"The dog puked in the living room. Gen is freaking out," Jared said, wandering into the kitchen, slipping his phone into his jeans pocket. "She thinks she can get it cleaned tomorrow morning but otherwise I'm going to be spending the first night at home scraping dried puke from the damn rug.”

Jensen snorted as he carefully poured the remainders of dinner into a container before putting the empty pot in the sink and the soup in the fridge. "Maybe you'll need to shoot a new scene, be stuck here a day later. Give her time to clean it up," he said half-jokingly, turning to wash his hands. Though Jared heard the tone. Jensen has two more days before he is released for break.

“She'd fly up here and tell me off, then kill me,” he said, fiddling with the label of the now-warm beer. It’d been cold when he'd stepped away to take her call. The edges of his world feel black, just beyond his sight, his head constricted. He took a long, deep swig, rolling his shoulders in a futile attempt to loosen the grasp of the panic. Stay in the now. He is here. He is safe. He has a plan. 

“The boys good?” Jensen asked, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face him, approaching the side of the island Jared stood at, leaning one jean clad hip against the same counter and taking a swig of his own beer. Thanks to heavy rain earlier in the week, the day had been a mad dash of scenes, flying from location to location without time to do anything but eat or touch up between takes. It'd meant no time to talk with the kids or wives until past bedtime. 

“Crazy. She recorded me a video. They showed me the countdown chart. Told me all about mommy's bad words when the dog puked.”

“Danni went to the movie, so I'm off the hook,” Jensen said, pushing away from the counter and brushing Jared's shoulder as he moved by on his way to the living room. They'd snuck into the latest blockbuster two days ago without the hungry lenses of social media catching them, sat in the back and hid from the world in another galaxy. Jensen had promised to go with Danni, but Jared couldn't wait.

“She pissed?” Jared asked, grabbing his beer and throwing himself on the other end of the sectional, causing it to rock back. He snatched the abandoned remote and turned up the sound as he threw his feet up next to Jensen's. Anything to drown the hum in his brain, invading his ability to think. “You could always go again, give her your sloppy seconds.” The words slipped out of his numb mind before he thought about them, their insensitivity. 

He could feel Jensen's eyes on him and glanced over. Jensen's brow was up, his lips pursed. “Classy, jerk.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't mean that.” He had no other response. He turned back to the TV, flipped to the sports options. “Knicks-Spurs?”

Jensen only grunted, and Jared settled in for his last night in Van, the basketball a dull murmur barely competing with the noise of his mind, conscious of brushing his feet against Jensen's on the coffee take each time he reaches for his beer. Knowing that he is getting a pass for his insensitive comment because Jensen had picked up on his mood the second he walked through the door. Or maybe he knew earlier, maybe the minute he woke up, or a week ago, or before they ever met. Jensen just knows. Jensen, always giving him more than he deserves. Their usual playful banter, random chatter about the mundane of life, is absent tonight. He leaned his head back on the couch briefly, trying to find the gratitude that tonight, at least, he could be here.

Technically he had an apartment a few minutes away, decorated by that interior design person Gen likes so much, with a living room of heavy, dark furniture, the kind Jared fell in love with growing up Texas, and pictures on the walls...and yet he's always here. In the too-white modern apartment with nothing but mirrors to break up the beige. 

That's not unusual. Everyone who knows, knows Jared can't manage alone. That the silence eats his confidence, his ability to function. He needs the vitality of others to fill the gaps. It had been roommates, then girlfriends. Until Sandy left and Jensen moved in. From the moment he had Jensen, it was better, the holes almost gone. She probably knows, he's sure she does, but Gen can't calm him like Jensen can. He shares far too much in common with Sam, dependent on Jensen for his emotional survival like Dean. The actor and the character, forever entangled. So desperate that even when it's just Daneel visiting, he'll remain, a slightly awkward third wheel who wears headphones to deafen himself late at night. Every day, even when Jared is so wound and manic Jensen makes empty threats to throw him out repeatedly. When he's so tired he gets the giggles he can't control. When he's the joker, the man's-man, the buddy. When the loneliness and doubts become crushing and each word spoken is a fight. When he doesn't feel like he can go on without Jensen to distract him from the darkness that comes from inside.

He watched the TV in silence, accompanied only by Jensen's occasional comment on the game and by the ever increasing tick of the clock in his head. His skin tight, like he'll explode in any second. Desperately reciting the list of all the good he has to look forward to. He can feel Jensen's gaze on him from time to time, but Jensen must have decided that the best way to manage him right now is to let him be.

He blinked frantically, pushing the black back. Finally, exhausted. Bed, now. No words needed between them, he can feel Jensen's eyes follow him as he ambled down the hall, leaving the door to the bedroom slightly ajar to hear the faint sounds of life as Jensen begins to get ready for bed. Jared shuffled off his clothes, leaving them in a pile. They'll be washed somewhere else, a thousand miles away in another home with another lover. 

The dark doesn't press so heavily here in the hushed quiet of this room, like the rules of gravity are somehow altered. Here the dark is simply a removal of sense of sight again, allowing him to focus on the other senses. The faint jasmine from laundry detergent on the sheets and the woodsy aftershave on the pillow. The clink of the door lock chain, the second deadbolt. The squeak-squelch of the fridge, the quiet click of switches, the slap of bare feet that enter the room. The rustle of clothes being discarded before the sudden chill of movement and an almost silent sigh as he settles on Jared's right side. The slight chill of Jensen's fingers as they blindly make contact with his elbow, sliding down to lock their fingers together. Calloused fingertips, from prop guns and guitar strings. A gentle squeeze. The sight pinch of a ring between his fingers. The scent of cinnamon gum on Jensen's breath as he speaks, his head turned toward Jared. 

"The game, gambling, the meeting," Jensen said quietly.

"I know," he replied. The litany is one he's been telling himself for hours now, since he shed Sam's damaged psyche and moved back into his own. It feels more real in Jensen's calm, familiar voice. He does know, but the anxiety doesn't care. 

"And I'm with you every day. We made sure of that. Text me, call me, I'm there. No one will think it's...everyone will understand.”

The difficulty of moving between two worlds is draining. Realigning to expectations of being a husband with a wife, a friend instead of lover. The excuse of re-entering civilization, where work doesn't take 12 hours of his day, is one to hide behind. Disorientation like jet lag, like awakening from a long midday nap, unsure of the time or direction or what has been missed.

The panic at not being with him is all consuming, even with the three promised escapes together over break they've already worked out. Legitimate reasons to leave their wives at home. But fear that something will tip them off is always present, probably irrational. Did he laugh off the truth enough? Did the door not lock just this once to hide a kiss, a caress? Will this be the last time before they find out? Break stretches ahead, bleak and empty from the connection he desires. And always the fear that something will go wrong and it will be permanent. Ridiculous, because Jensen has promised to never leave, no matter the pins and tape still holding his damaged self together. 

He loves his wife. Really thought she was it, that he could walk from Jensen and make it straight. Knows Jensen loves Danneel. Cannot fathom a life now without their children, children they could never have without their wives. Being loving in no way replaces the bone-deep ache of being in love. No one - no one - will ever get him like Jensen. And it kills that outside of their world they've created here, he's only supposed to be a friend, not a lover, not a soulmate.

Not even in the hotels scattered throughout the world do they dare be anything but friends. And in those escapes coming up, they will sleep a scant few feet apart, in two beds instead of one. Always hiding. It has to be enough. Not daring more than brief touches, a few stolen moments in a locked bathroom, though still enough to give them away, still a risk. But then, after almost a decade of this, they are very good at hiding. At being patient. At breathing and taking and giving in secret.

But in this room they've made theirs, the dark walls and darker sheets a safe harbor to hold the secrets in, he is free. In another country from their unaware wives, in a room with thick curtains that never open, locked behind a deadbolt that has no key. This room allows them to be as loose with their friendship in the public eye as they want, to touch and laugh and hug and banter, because no one will ever catch them in the act. No one will ever know the truth. No one will ever realize those touches are necessary, required for survival until they can come back to this room.

He will miss this room, count the days until he can return to it, think about it a bit too much in another bed in Texas. He allows himself to wonder if Jensen will think of tonight too, when he's with her. Knows he has before - Jensen has told him. They keep no secrets. No barriers. 

“The game is still on for Sunday?” he asks, feeling melodramatic and desperate all at once. 

“Mmmm,” Jensen replies, his lips meeting Jared's skin on his neck.

He feels the soft tug on his arm, the other hand snaking across his belly, latching onto his hip,digging in, pulling him towards Jensen. Tomorrow bruises will be explained away by a fight scene, a bump against the door of Baby, wrestling around for fun. Their thighs and legs tangle as Jared's lips make contact with his rough cheek, dragging along the stubble to his warm, wet lips. Tongues meet, brushing and sliding.

“Babe,” Jensen all but growls, pulling him more forcefully into the center of the bed. Rolling half on top of him, his hand sliding into Jared's longer hair to cup his head, holding him steady. Sliding his other hand down, under, reaching. Finding. This time, commanding. 

 

Jensen wakes first, the clock on the bedside table reading just past 5. Jared is draped around him, all arms and legs and blinding heat. Jensen runs cold. Can never get warm enough in bed with Danneel. Only Jared. He smiles wryly, melancholia rising. So many truths in one sentence. 

Another hour before they have to be moving, him to work and Jared to another home. The room smells like their shared body soap - innocent jokes about taking on each other's habits hide the truth about their relationship, always hiding in plain sight - and the dark, masculine scent of men. He breathes it in. Weeks before he will smell it again. 

They share the same fear of being separate, yet different. Jared fears falling back into his darkness. Jensen fears falling back into reticence, into the safety of never truly living. Jared pushes and pulls him into the man he is now, out of his analytic mind where he carefully weighs each side of any choice and into the real world, where choices come quick and are messy and exceedingly beautiful. Jensen would never have made this leap with Jared, would never have chosen the turbulence they live in, if Jared hadn't pushed first. The incredible highs and lows that remind him he is alive. Only with Jared on the line, the one he could never resist, do the rewards trample the risk.

He chose another path once, a traditional path his parents approved of. White dress, picket fence. He veered away from the cliff, stopped living for him. And realized far too soon that he wasn't living at all. The big picture didn't make any difference without the sunlight. 

Jensen still sees the big picture. He drives the discretion, steering Jared away from the impulses that will end this all. Made the rules, created the room they lay in now. Jensen knows the strength of their resolve. 

The craziness of secrets within secrets, the exhausting distances Jensen can deal with because this room is here. What he fears is the end of this road, when Van is no longer in their lives, when Supernatural ends. He doesn't fear the choice. He fears the aftermath. They can't be apart. But what will the cost be? 

He knows this is why they work. One so shortsighted he only sees the loneliness of the next three weeks, one so long sighted the mystery of the end keeps him up at night. Together, they will ride this road until the end and forge along past it. Together is all he should care about. 

Jared shook last night, after Jensen made love to him, and he kissed away the tears. No one is awake to witness Jensen this morning. Not tears. The fear, the bone deep need - it's all here in his chest, too, ripping him apart in silent agony. He tries to take a shallow breath, calming himself. The next three weeks. Look only that far. 

An arm squeezes his waist tighter. 

"The game, gambling, the meeting," Jared whispers. “It'll be okay.”


End file.
